Page 81 of A Heart Falls Cowboy Christmas

And the truth of her observation flowed around them, applying a balm to the sore spots of the conversation.

Sasha softened her voice. “And I think if I’m supposed to learn how Crooked Creek runs, I need to be able to say what I notice. You don’t have to agree with it. You don’t have to change everything because I mention it. But if every suggestion sounds like an insult to you, I don’t know how this will work.”

Frank looked down at the rag in his hands. He turned it once, twice, worrying at a frayed edge. “I’m not used to being told how to run my own place.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not used to holding your tongue,” he muttered. “You kind of remind me of Charity.”

That startled a laugh out of Sasha.

Tucker spoke up. “Sasha has held her tongue very firmly. She hasn’t said a word of any of this at Silver Stone to me or the rest of the family.”

Frank eyed Tucker for a moment then dipped his chin slowly. The tension eased a notch.

The silence stretched, but rather than judgment, it felt like a man forcing himself to listen to something he didn’t particularly want to hear.

Finally, Frank spoke. “Maintenance board in the shop.”

Sasha blinked. “What?”

“We can try it.” His tone was gruff but no longer condescending. “But this isn’t a kindergarten class. No color-coded nonsense.”

“I wasn’t planning color-coded nonsense,” Sasha said quietly, standing taller but her shoulders relaxed a hint.

“Good.” He pointed toward the parked machines with the rag. “And you can put a note on it about fueling.”

“Okay.”

“For two weeks,” Frank added. He turned to Tucker. “That sound fair? Long enough to see if it’s useful or if it’s only one more thing people ignore.”

Tucker considered. “Sounds fair to me.”

Frank studied Sasha again. “You’re right. I need to get over myself a little. The next time you’ve got a thought, say it.”

Sasha gave him a look.

He exhaled sharply. “I’ll try not to bite your head off.”

She smiled. “That would help.”

“And maybe you can try not to make it sound as if I’m some old fool who’s been holding this place together with binder twine and stubbornness.”

“I can do that,” she said. “But Kelli says there’s a time and a place for a little binder twine.”

Tucker laughed at that, sharing a smile with Sasha as Frank stepped back toward the door then paused.

“Sasha.”

“Yes?”

“This place does need adjusting.” The admission seemed to cost Frank something, but he made it anyway. “Doesn’t mean I’ll like hearing it every time.”

“I don’t need you to like it.”

His gaze met hers again, direct and steady.

“No,” he said. “I suppose you don’t.”